


Christmas Gifts, Dances, Kisses

by Daisy_PoisonPen



Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers Family, Avengers Tower, Christmas Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Holidays, Ironstrange Secret Santa, Light Angst, M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Romance, and Scott is still an avenger, basically everyone is alive and happy, but Thor is still a Guardian, just go with it, song lyrics: Christmas Lights by coldplay, song lyrics: Merry Christmas Everyone by shakin stevens, there was no civil war, there was no endgame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:00:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21948508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy_PoisonPen/pseuds/Daisy_PoisonPen
Summary: Tony needs to make the perfect gift in order to declare his undying affection for Stephen Strange, who is all the way out of his leaguePeter Quill's mission right now isn't to fight bad guys and be a Guardian of the Galaxy; it's to make it back to earth on time for the fucking Annual Avengers Christmas Party.Harley Keener needs to get Peter to forgive him and also maybe date him.All of these people are disasters at love but I promise they're trying.
Relationships: Harley Keener & Tony Stark, Harley Keener/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Scott Lang/Peter Quill, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65
Collections: IronStrange Secret Santa 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bold_seer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bold_seer/gifts), [ElisaPhoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElisaPhoenix/gifts).



> Welcome to more things I did instead of working on my numerous WIPs, the Christmas edition. Here we have a submission for the Ironstrange Secret Santa. Here we have 6 losers and all of them are bad at just asking out who they wanna ask out, feat. angst, fluff, dancing, mistletoe, and more. 
> 
> happy holidays! A special shout out to my secret Santa gift bold_seer and also to my girl ElisaPhoenix, who I literally always write Antlord for and can't pass up this opportunity to write some AngstLord cos, y'know...
> 
> ANYhoo. without further ado...
> 
> roll the fucking clip.

**~  
** **Harley  
** **~**

“HEY!” the teen was yelling at the top of his lungs, hoping to be heard over the sound of blaring Christmas music and tony meticulously welding something together, sparks flying in all directions.

“What? Oh, sorry. FRIDAY turn it down, girl.”

“Sorry, Boss. I tried to tell you but I don’t think you heard me.”

“Oh.” Tony pulled the safety faceplate off and turned around on his stool, wiping at his face with his sleeve and yanking off his work gloves. “What’s up kid?”

“What’s up with you, old man? You’ve been slaving away in here for days.”

“It’s not work if you’re having fun. Whatdya want, kid?”

Harley heaved a heavy sigh and sat down. “If I hypothetically needed your help because my best friend is hypothetically a superhero and I have no idea what to buy him for Christmas and I need it to be really good because he’s important—”

“I thought you already got Peter a present.”

“He needs another present.”

“Why?” Tony asked, biting his lip hard to keep from smiling.

“Uh…” Harley Keener, prankster extraordinaire, potato gun wielder, and puppy-dog-eyes master, fucking blushed to the roots of his hair. “I—he just needs another one okay?”

“Aww. Does Hawwey has a cwush?”

“I’ll get FRIDAY to put your repulsors on backwards!” he motioned to where FRIDAY was slowly assembling Iron Man Mark L.

“She wouldn’t. Would you?”

FRIDAY was suspiciously silent.

“Wow, I see how it is. Fine, what do you want to get Peter?”

“Uh—well, the thing is, we fought. I— he didn’t tell me, he never told me! And of course I found out and I got mad at him for keeping it from me that he is Spiderman, and now he won’t talk to me or even look at me, so now I wanted to get him something else to show him that I’m not mad anymore and that he’s safe with me. And that it doesn’t matter to me, you know?”

“Aww— Harls, do you want me to talk to him?”

“N-no! I just need some ideas.”

Tony sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “Honestly you two are a disaster and deserve each other,” he muttered. He wandered to the mess of filing cabinets and clutter at the far side of the workshop, digging around in one cabinet, then another, throwing papers and odd tools or parts over his shoulder as he continued to mutter. “...Pete can’t just get his act together. I swear it’s like he’s perfectly fine for him to get stabbed and bleed all over my lab, _which is not sterile, by the way_ , but God for- _fucking-_ bid that he admit he’s in love with—HA! Found it. Here. I bought this a long time ago because I thought of him, but I never found the right moment to give it to him.”

Harley opened a small leather box to reveal an ornament in the shape of the stylized spider legs that looked just like the one on the front of his suit, gold=plated and with a pale green stone as its body—Peter’s birthstone, Peridot. “Whoa,” he breathed. “It’s perfect. Wait— I can’t pay you for this.”

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry kid. I was never actually going to give it to him. Like I said, I never found the moment.”

Harley’s eyes met his, wide and pouting. “What if he hates it?”

“Frankly, kid, he’s more likely to pass out from sheer excitement and Banner’ll have to leave the party to scan his head for a concussion. So really, you’ll be doing Banner a huge favor.”

Harley snickered, “Petey’s soft that way, isn’t he?”

“You know it. Now get out of my lab I have my own present to build.”

“Build?! Geez, what are you making?”

Tony tried and failed not to turn pink, too. “It’s— just get out!”

“Fine, fine. Sure you don’t want help?”

Tony gave him a look. “No, thanks.”

“Alright, alright! I’m leaving!”

**~  
** **Quill**   
******~**

“N-no! Drax what are you doing?! Holy shit—”

“Drax!”

Drax, Norns bless him, jumped right over Thor’s head and toward the monster’s gaping, drooling, jagged-toothed, loudly roaring maw, his knives glinting and leaving no choice but for Quill to fire at it and draw its attention away from _eating_ his teammate. Nebula followed suit. Thor called lightning out of literal outer space because he was a god, and that was the end of the monster. Mantis, gods help her too, she just ducked for cover.

Quill was unfortunate to catch a tidal wave of alien-monster blood and goo all over himself, barely managing to shield his face. “Oh for crying out loud—you guys, Scotty gave me this for my birthday!”

“You should have known better than to wear it, then.”

“I am Groot.”

“Of course you’re siding with them! You’re literally—”

“Even I saved my best cape and cloak for Stark’s Avengers Christmas party.”

“Which we’re going to be late to if we don’t hurry up and clean up this mess so we can get paid.”

“Of course.”

As they cleaned, Quill pined. 

He met the Ant-Man by chance. The Guardians had been escaping and been forced to make an emergency landing on Earth, just as one of Antman’s villains, Whirlwind, was raising a lot of windy hell. A few well-places shots ended that struggle, and the man gratefully invited them to his house for drinks. His pet ants, Anton and Ulysses S. Gr-Ant II were his constant and goofy companions, and he spoke to them as if they were people--which was fair since the insects were the size of large dogs. Quill fell in love with this strange, insane man over the course of that weekend, and often made up excuses to go back to Earth every few weeks to visit with him. 

But now… well, now things had changed. This mission had taken too long.

Hopefully, he’d get to get home soon— he just wanted to have Scott in his arms again. Hopefully, nothing would go wrong, and he’d get to have a dance with the absolute light of his life.

**~  
** **Tony**  
 **** **~**

Tony huffed as he studied his work.

He fucking hated it.

He scrapped the thing and threw it at the wall, watching with frustration as the thing smashed to pieces and scattered on the floor. “Ugh!” he yelled. “Nothing turns out right!” 

He paced, anxious and angry with himself. It was just a gift for Strange. How hard could it be to make him something? He definitely wasn’t going to buy him something. Strange was too sophisticated for store-bought things.

He scrapped his original idea altogether, yanking at his hair. What did he do for—

_Sophisticated._ Strange was classy. He wasn’t a suit-and-sneakers rich guy like Tony. He always dressed like he knew his intelligence, his power. Even when he was dressed casually, he still was polished, clean. _Sophisticated._ The man constantly looked like he walked out of a magazine cover and it would have been irritating if it weren’t damn sexy. Tony wanted something that would capture that quality about him. So far, he had failed at it.

Perhaps it was because he was so… basic.

Tony had never felt more unworthy of someone in his entire life as he did in that moment.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Huh? Oh—hey, kid.”

“Hi. Are you okay?”

“Not really. I keep screwing this up.”

“I see. FRIDAY said you could use a pick me up. I brought you coffee.”

Tony smiled wearily up at Peter and accepted the mug. Peter still threw himself into Tony’s arms, hugging him tightly and dripping coffee all over Tony’s hand.

“Hey—oof.” Tony set the mug down and returned the hug, holding Peter for as long as he wanted. Tony discovered that Peter was the type that spoke his emotions very physically: with actions and touches and bouncing all over the place, and pacing on the ceiling, and gods knew what else. Physically expressive as he was, he tended to feel sensitive or more easily hurt when those things were denied him. So Tony indulged his thoughtful coffees and voicemails and endless hugs. Something in his chest lurched whenever the kid launched himself at him like this anyway. So instead of peeling him off and going back to toiling over his stupid Christmas present, he said, “I’ve got ya, Peter.”

Peter only squeezed tighter, closing his eyes and tucking his head closer against the older man’s shoulder. “Need help?” he whispered.

“Nah. I… think I’m going to take a break.”

“Watch a movie with me?”

“Of course.”

“Why are you so upset?”

“I just…” Tony stepped out of the hug and picked up his mug, following Peter out of the lab. “I am struggling making a gift, and I guess I realized that maybe I’m not the right person to make it.”

“That’s bullshit,” Peter snorted. “You can make whatever you set your mind to.”

“Yeah but…”

“And whoever it’s for will love it because it’s from you. More than you think,” Peter added slyly.” He sauntered into the kitchen to pop some popcorn, calling over his shoulder, “I happen to have heard through the grapevines and birdies that Dr. Strange is struggling with watches lately. The buckles are too difficult for his fingers and the thing around his wrist is uncomfortable.”

Tony froze in his tracks. “THAT’S PERFECT!” he screeched, scrambling back into his lab. “Thanks, kid!”

Peter watched the movie on his own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> life is going on and Christmas lights keep shining on.  
> for Scott, this is hopeful. for Peter, it's a little soothing. for Tony, it's a sign he's gonna knock this one out of the park.

**~** **  
****Scott** **  
****~**

“Daddy! Look at those!” Cassie squealed and pointed up. The house they were walking by had taken the time to put up a spectacular display: a red sleigh made of Christmas lights surrounded a blow-up Santa and white lights formed all the reindeer, except for Rudolph’s nose which was a giant red Christmas light. Scott smiled and laughed as she chanted, _“Now Dasher! now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! on Donner and Blitzen!”_ and she giggled ecstatically when he recited the names with her.

Scott pulled his coat tighter around himself. Having Christmas with Cassie was easing the ache in his chest and behind his eyes. He pulled out all the stops: read her all the Christmas books, watched every Christmas movie, made cookies, took her shopping, made hot chocolate and donned their warm winter gear and took her out to look at Christmas lights. 

He still wished he could do all of this with Quill too. He hadn’t seen Quill since June. _Has it been six months already?_ It was too long. He tried to stay numb to it all, but he wasn't that type of person. Instead he just... ached. 

_Up above candles on air flicker_ _  
_ _Oh they flicker and they float_

He had his doubts after a while. Did Quill even want to come back? He spent his entire life in space, visiting a million planets. For all Scott knew, his life up there wasn’t worth giving up for one person on this stupid rock. Scott didn’t think Quill was the type. But then, Scott always tried to see the best in people.

_But I'm up here holding on_ _  
_ _To all those chandeliers of hope_

“...and—Daddy?”

“Sorry Peanut, what’d you say?”

“Daddy, why are you sad?”

Scott shrugged. “I just miss Quill, that’s all.”

“I miss him too.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. He makes you silly, Daddy. I like when you’re happy.”

“I do too.”

So he kept looking up at the lights and the stars. And he kept dreaming about the day Quill would land back at the tower and dance the night away with him.

And he kept aching.

_Those Christmas lights_ _  
_ _light up the street_ _  
_ _Maybe they'll bring her back to me_ _  
_ _Then all my troubles will be gone_ _  
_ _Oh, Christmas lights, keep shining on_

**~** **  
****Peter** **  
****~**

He was perched on one of his favorite places in Manhattan. When he was done here, he’d swan dive off the building, and the free-fall would likely alert Mr. Stark and promptly send him into a stroke, but he’d still do it. Free-falling used to scare him, as did heights. But since becoming the Spider Man, he fell from the highest heights with whoops and thrilled screams, and laughed as he caught himself and swung away, flipping through the air. It felt good to give himself over to his new instincts, to hurtle toward the ground, feel the wind whipping at his face, and still know that he would swing away. It felt like defeating death, after death had taken so much from him, and that had made him feel powerful.

He didn’t feel like high diving into traffic off the Chrysler Building tonight. Instead, he stared up at the sky. Thin clouds gave the moon an eerie halo and covered the stars. Icy breeze swept over him and he shivered, adjusting the suit’s heater.

He stared at the stars and dared his tears to freeze in the corners of his eyes.

He hated fighting with Harley. He hated it more than he hated it when someone got hurt or died because of him or the gallery of villains he regularly fought now. The night was quiet for a change, but Peter’s mind was screaming, their angry words echoing between his ears until he shuddered and sobbed, covering them to block out the hurt in Harley's voice.

_Christmas night, another fight_ _  
_ _Tears we cried a flood_

_I took my feet_ _  
_ _to Oxford Street_ _  
_ _trying to right a wrong_ _  
_ _Just walk away_

He was depressed for other reasons, too. Aunt May had been quiet tonight, sipping a Hot Toddy, which was a rarity—she didn’t like it when Peter saw her drink. When he’d gotten home, she’d mumbled something about takeout and went to her room. He saw her wipe at her face before she closed the door, and that was when he knew that she was crying for Ben.

His uncle Ben. God, he missed him, sometimes. He missed him in this moment because Ben would know how to fix things with Harley. Alas, he was without his uncle with the warm smiles and sage advice. And he was without his best friend with the oversized hoodies and the soft, blue eyes. Being alone in the cold, staring at the sky with dimmed stars and heavy light pollution, wasn’t really going to help him, but frankly, he didn’t care. 

_Still waiting for the snow to fall_ _  
_ _It doesn't really feel like Christmas at all_

He sniffed.

Sometimes he felt like being a super-hero ruined everything. May had been wrecked when she found out— of course she was. It was natural for her to be afraid. Still, they were finding their way back from that little revelation, and now Harley too? He didn’t want to be on eggshells around Harley. Besides Ned and MJ, Harley was the one person he could tell anything on earth, and Harley would just pat his back and say some wisecrack, and Peter would always know he’d be okay. Harley always found ways to touch him, too—pats on his back or shoulder, or flicking his ear or brushing his hand. Peter felt grounded around him, in a way he could never feel with anyone. 

He had to figure out how to get Harley to forgive him. He needed Harley. He'd do anything.

He turned and pushed himself off the antenna at the top of the building and spinning through the air, relishing the moment he felt his stomach flutter. Then he plummeted into the city lights below.

_Those Christmas lights_ _  
_ _Light up the street_ _  
_ _Down where the sea and city meet_ _  
_ _May all your troubles soon be gone_ _  
_ _Oh Christmas lights, keep shining on_

**~** **  
****Tony** **  
****~**

This was even more tedious than the last project. But this time, his mind was sharp and focused and he felt calm. He sketched every detail by hand. FRIDAY had made a 3D blueprint of what he wanted, and he took it apart and adjusted it a million times before he had the parts overnighted. He researched materials and ergonomic shapes until he fell asleep at his desk and DUM-E was poking him insistently, but he finally had the perfect thing. He even ordered a cardboard gift box to be cut the specifications of his gift, complete with plush cushioning and black silk on its inside and crushed black velvet on its outside.

Now all he had to do was make the damn thing. 

But the parts were so tiny and on too little sleep and too much coffee, his hands shook and he kept screwing up or dropping something.

So for once, he cleaned up his workbench and headed to bed early, taking his time in the shower and finding his coziest pajamas to sleep in. “See that, Strange?” he muttered to himself as he went, “you’re always making me better. Now I just have to figure out how to tell you.”

As he passed into the kitchen for a bottle of water before going to sleep, his eyes caught the reflection of the christmas tree against the steel glass of the tower window. Underneath it were reflected various boxes and decorative bags— gifts for each Avenger and Peter, Ned, MJ, Harley, Lila, Cooper, baby Nathaniel, and Scott’s little girl, piled artfully. He also had various gifts and cards for May, Laura, and the Guardians, who probably wouldn’t need any stupid earth tech in space, but would likely appreciate the personalized cards and trinkets.

Beyond it, the city glowed in its various streetlight and LED displays. He smiled. 

_Oh Christmas lights_ _  
_ _Light up the street_

Yes, his Christmas present for Stephen was going to be one of his best creations yet. he felt a little maniacal, his excitement and glee at his idea, his mind already coming up with ideas for the next version. If he were actually evil, he might have let out an evil laugh.

Instead he tucked himself in with a notebook, sketched out more ideas until he fell asleep dreaming of parts the exact hue of the blue of Stephen’s eyes. 

_Light up the fireworks in me_

And grinning, he definitely fell asleep grinning.

_May all your troubles soon be gone_ _  
_ _Those Christmas lights keep shining on_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> feelings, feelings everywhere. lots of wanting to be with somebody feelings.

**~** **  
** **Stephen** **  
** **~**

Kamar-Taj was thriving. Stephen returned to the sanctum in New York and breathed a sigh of relief. New York was home, it always would be. He found himself staring at the glyph-shaped window at the very top floor of the mansion. He did that often because he enjoyed the view of the city—the new World Trade Center, the staple Empire State Building.

_ Avengers Tower. _

He liked observing that tower particularly because it always seemed busy. Its private landing pad for Iron Man wasn’t visible, but the streak of light that always followed the suit regularly sped away or toward it, and he imagined the usual, ridiculous banter that Stark bombarded his AI with. The man never ceased to stop talking. Stephen usually found it irritating on other people, but with Stark… well, he knew what it was like to have too many thoughts in his head, a side effect of having superior intellect, maybe. Stark just coped with it by letting it out. He was very much a person that needed to see his ideas as project, hear his thoughts as words. Stephen was sort of jealous of his ability to physically express his genius with his hands. Having lost that ability in himself, he constantly found himself staring at Avengers Tower through the window and wondering what it was like to watch the man’s hands at work. 

He’d seen Stark once after a whole afternoon of working in his lab, his white tee shirt stained and greasy, his hair everywhere, and his hands blackened with grease. A towel was hanging out of his back pocket, and he smiled brightly as he went into the fridge and pulled a bottle of cool water, tossing out some quip that had instantly made Stephen’s blood heat up and his tongue lash out like a whip in response.

Stark had only smirked and shrugged as he walked away, his jeans dirty but hugging his ass in all the right ways. Jesus, was it a holdover from Nebraska? Back then, he had always admired the men that seemed that way— rustic, dirty, hardworking. He wanted to be like them, even though, clearly, his mind had been inclined to other things.

There was more.

Stephen was always  _ watching  _ him. He couldn’t take his eyes off. Even in sleep or meditation, he’d project himself and just watch. He watched the Avengers clean up after HYDRA, watched Stark destroy dozens of Ten Rings strongholds. He was a tactical genius and strong, a hero, irritatingly arrogant but generous and kind, calm in the face of danger. The kind of man he’d always looked up to.

And when he stepped out of his suit, the thrill of victory thrumming in his blood, Stephen was helpless to just stare at him and admit that he wanted to be in this person’s life more than anything.

The Christmas Party would be the perfect opportunity to tell him, but… well, he just had to get Stark alone. But there were so many people attending— all of the Avengers, their SHIELD liaisons, Fury, the Guardians of the Galaxy, which were apparently like Space Avengers— how was he going to get Stark’s attention away from all of them? Would he have it long enough?

If only he could know before then, but he couldn’t.

After all, magic didn’t solve everything.

**~** **  
** **Harley** **  
** **~**

He decided that along with his presents, he would present Peter with a letter and a gift card. The letter went like this:

> _ Dear Peter, _
> 
> _ It’s been an awesome year getting to know you. Ever since I got to come stay in the tower with the Avengers (holy shit, real Avengers, how cool is that?!) with my sister, you’ve been so kind and helpful and honestly, this city is a huge change from Rose Hill, and I don’t think we’d have survived here without you. _
> 
> _ I’m not gonna lie, it hurt my feelings that you and Tony had this whole Spider-Man thing going on and didn’t tell me. You’re my best friend in this place, Pete, it really hurts when you don’t trust me with things. With all of that said, I understand that it’s a big deal. I wish I hadn’t blown up at you or said all the horrible things I said. I wish I could take them all back. I don’t like seeing you sad and I don’t like that you won’t talk to me anymore. I hate it and I miss you. I’m really, really sorry. I apologize for it all and I promise not to blow up like that again. _
> 
> _ The truth is, I care about you way more than as just friends, or even best friends. I’d really like you to know that it doesn’t matter to me that you can walk on ceilings and stick to walls and stuff. I was your friend before I knew you were Spider-man, and even if you don’t love me back, I’ll still be there for you now that I know.  _
> 
> _ Now that all that is out of the way, really, I hope you’re having a good Christmas. I can’t wait to see you and May at the party and I hope that you’re happy and okay and everything good. _
> 
> _ -Harley _
> 
> _ PS- That said, it would be really cool if you loved me back. Or at least talked to me, you know? Please? _
> 
> _ PPS- oh my god the entire point of this letter was to ask you to be my boyfriend. Will you please just be my boyfriend? _

He scratched out the post-postscript though. Then he rewrote it. And then he scratched it out again. Gods help him, maybe this was better asked in person.

He figured he should ask Tony.

“No, this is good,” Tony laughed when he went to the lab to ask for more hypothetical help. “It’s… you guys are disasters and deserve each other.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome. That said, Pete isn’t avoiding you because he hates you or something, you know that, right?”

Hopeful, Harley asked, “Really?”

“Hmm. After the whole fiasco with the Vulture, where essentially Peter’s overzealous— he sunk a ferry, okay? With people in it.”

“Yikes,” Harley commisserated.

“I had to show up and weld the ship together so that it would float long enough for everyone to be rescued.  _ After  _ I specifically told him to leave Vulture alone. I mean, in his defense, I didn’t exactly warn him that the FBI would be looking into it, and I really should have kept a better eye on him. He wasn’t the only one that screwed up, is what I mean to say. But he still— he’s the type of guy that takes screw-ups and failures as personal flaws and then punishes himself over them. He turned down training as an Avenger. Didn’t seek me out for weeks. It took me a while to figure out what was going on, and then god, the constant hurt on his face— it took a few weeks for him to trust that I wanted him around.”

Harley scrubbed his face. He knew that look all too well.

“It helped when I showed him I was still working on his Iron Spider suit.”

“Why?”

“Because, kid, he doesn’t want spur of the moment things he knows you can take back just as quickly. The letter will help him see you’ve been thinking about this for a long time and aren’t winging it.”

“...Like the suit did?”

“Like the suit did.”

“Thanks, Grandpa.”

“Honestly, I’m going to lock you out of my lab one day!”

“Never,” Harley cackled.

**~** ****  
**Quill** **  
** **~**

They were still 13 jumps away from Earth, and now they were having a maintenance issue and had to jump to Xandar to fix it.

He was beyond frustrated. Fucking hell, why could nothing go right? He just needed to get back to Earth. And of course, Thor was trying to take over things and look at maps, and that meant that Rocket was bickering with him about leaving shit alone. Gamora actually liked Thor and took his side on most things, which started an argument with her psychotic sister Nebula, who immediately broke out a knife and figured they should settle their little sibling spat with murder because she escalated things in the way only she could. Thor’s fist clenched and crackled with lightning, and Quill reached his limit.

“ENOUGH!”

Blessed silence.

“What is with all of you? We’re going to stick with the original plan, and that’s final. Right now, this thing is a death trap in space and if we don’t get it together, we’re going to be stranded out here.”

“Quill—”

“And if I end up late because of you morons, I’m never forgiving any of you!” And he stomped into his room, hoping to calm down some. He thought about the kindness in Scott’s eyes and the happiness in his laughter, and how his face changed so expressively when Quill caught him surprised him or made quippy jokes. He passed the time that way, just dreaming of his lover.

He had to get home. Somehow.

“Hey, Quill?”

He sighed.

“Look, I’m sorry. We’re sorry. I know you’re dying to get back to Earth, and I know it seems like we’re not taking this seriously, but I promise we’re all on alert, okay?” 

“Thanks, Gamora.”

“You know, I don’t know what it’s like to be out here but have someone safe to go home to.”

“You’ve got us,” Quill said kindly.

“Yeah but I always see your dumb faces,” she snorts.

Quill smiles, laughing as she shoves at his face with her hand. “Hey,” he chuckles, feeling lighter.

“It’s not the same as missing somebody.”

Quill shrugged. I don’t want to get used to missing him.”

“Have you ever thought about staying?”

“What?! No way. I can’t quit the Guardians.”

“But you can’t stay away from your…”

“My Scotty.” 

“Yeah,” Gamora said, smiling. “Think about it, maybe there’s something we can work out.”

“Thanks,” Quill said. 

“We’re landing in Xandar in about two hours,” she said, and then she walked away, her footfalls silent.

It was evening in Xandar. Quill and Rocket set about procuring fuel and diagnostics and parts and the like, but it was hard to find a ship mechanic to do much of anything else before morning, and they had to replace several parts.

Left with nothing to do but explore and kill time, the Guardians took the opportunity to stock their ship, do laundry, and other basic needs before eating together in the equivalent of a bar, happily chowing down on meats and sucking down beers, enjoying being a team.

Quill didn’t want meat or beer. He wanted champagne and a dance. 

He moved outside, looking up at the night sky, wondering if he could see Earth’s sun from here. 

He couldn’t.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the time of the party is closing in on our idiots and they are all panicking for different reasons.

**~** **  
** **Quill** **  
** **~**

Quill was going to lose his fucking mind.

Of course Groot snuck off on his own instead of sticking with the team, and now he was nowhere to be found. Hours on Xandar were slightly shorter than Earth hours. 1 hour on Earth was like 45 minutes on Xandar. 

It had been 12 hours on Xandar.

They ordered the parts, which were expected to arrive by midday. The ship mechanic sent for them and said it was arriving. They searched every part of the city they could manage.

16 hours.

18 hours.

Quill had two days left to make 14 jumps back to Earth. 

_ Fuck. _

He was going to be late, very late. Even at her best, the ship wouldn’t make it for at least two and a half or three days.

21 hours.

Quill sighed, holding his head in his hands. They had their ship back, but they couldn’t leave without Groot.

“Damn it,” he whispered, tears burning his eyes. “Dammit, Scotty, I’m sorry,” he cried into his hands, cutting off a sob and attempting to get himself together. “Everything’s falling apart and Groot’s missing and… fuck, why can’t we just have one good night?”

Unfortunately, Rocket heard him. “ARE YOU SERIOUSLY CRYING BECAUSE YOU MISSED ONE PARTY?! GROOT IS LOST!”

“What, you think I don’t know that?”

“I think you don’t care.”

“Of course I—how could I not care?! I want to find him just as much as you do!”

“Yeah so you can hightail it back to earth to party with your boytoy.”

“He’s not my boytoy, he’s my—and you know what? Why don’t you make yourself useful and help me finish with these supplies so we can go as soon as we get him back?! What the fuck have you been doing to help in any of this besides yelling at me for being depressed about missing a date?”

“Will you two stop squabbling?!”

Both froze. 

Nebula was standing in the ship’s entrance with Groot by one arm and a seriously displeased look on her face—which was saying a lot since Nebula always looked angry. Thor was also behind her, looking thunder-mad. Wherever Groot had turned up, his logic (or lack thereof) had seriously pissed them off.

Quill’s relief released with a shaky breath and a tear. “Fuck,” he huffed. “Where have you been? Are you okay? Where was he?”

“IamGroot,” Groot grunted, yanking his arm away from Nebula and attempting past Quill and Rocket.

“Not so fucking fast,” Quill hissed. “Where have you been?! It’s been almost a whole day! You can’t just take off—we thought something happened to you! Where the fuck were you?!” Quill hiccupped and cursed again, turning away from the group to wipe at his face with his sleeve.

“I am Groot.”

“How about more apology and less sass?” Rocket snapped. “You made him cry!”

“Alright, alright,” intervened Gamora. “Rocket, can you please find Mantis and Drax?”

“Yeah I’m pretty sure they’re in Drax’s bunk playing with her feelers.”

“Oh— _ eww _ .” Quill snorted, scrunching his nose as everyone broke into laughter, releasing the tension that had made the ship claustrophobically small.

“Just—strap in and hurry up so this crybaby dumbass can go home to his stupid boyfriend.”

“Honestly, shut up, Rocket!”

“Whatever. Look, man… I was just mad. I didn’t want to say you don’t care about Groot. It’s just… he’s always been with me, you know? We’re sort of a package deal. And you were in here not looking for him and I just lost it. That’s it, alright?”

“Sure. Hurry up and strap in, we’re pushing this ship to her limits.”

“Quill we have a teenager in the cabin okay?!?! Please don’t drive like a maniac—”

“I don’t drive like a maniac! And we’re flying, get it right.”

“Whatever! You still do it like a maniac!”

“JUST FLY THE FUCKING SHIP!”

Quill grinned as the machine roared to life. “On it.”

**~** **  
** **Peter** **  
** **~**

He had to use the facilities in the lab again. He ditched his suit on his workbench and ducked into the short hall ajacent the lab, following it to a glass shower stall and first-aid cabinet. 

He bit down hard on his lip to keep from whimpering as he stepped into the spray of water and a wash of red seeped down the drain. He quickly scrubbed himself clean and washed the wounds on his side and thigh and then stumbled out of the shower, already sucking in deep breaths again. This was going to suck.

He still soaked a gauze pad with alcohol and fat tears rolled out of his eyes as he disinfected. By the time he applied pressure bandages to all of the cuts, he was shaking. He was about to wrap himself in a towel when he heard Harley and Tony walk into the lab chatting, greeted by FRIDAY.

Whatever FRIDAY sassed him with made Tony snort, and of course, Harley couldn’t resist getting in a little teasing if his own. 

“Of course not, Ancient of—hey, is that… that’s Petey’s suit.” His voice had gone high and thin. 

Tony sighed. “I’m sure he’s fine.” He didn’t seem too convinced but he hid that well.

“There’s blood on it,” Harley managed. “Holy shit, he’s bleeding! Does that happen a lot? Oh my God. Oh my fucking Baby Jesus, he was on the news two weeks ago for stopping the Goblin or whatever, and the clip shows him shoving Petey into a train track—”

“Believe it or not, it’s not the first time a villain of his tried to him run over with a train,” Tony mumbled. It was probably the wrong thing to say.

“Oh my GOD!” Harley shrieked, hyperventilating, “This is not cool or okay! He’s in danger all the—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there. Lord knows Pete gives me more gray hairs than my hair dye can keep up with, but he's never going to stop doing this because he  _ loves _ it and this city. The truth is, all of us Avengers have been through some frightening things too, both apart and together. It’s part of the job, kid.” 

“But Tony—”

“The best you can hope to do if you really want to show him you accept his other identity is just trust him to know his limits. God knows we still have that grossing pain every once in a while, but it’s just that. Growing pain. He gets better and better at this and I promise, he isn’t alone out there. He knows he can call any of us for help. KAREN alerts me to his injuries and triages them. You have to trust him to be okay and you have to know I wouldn’t leave him out there if he weren’t. You know that, don’t you?”

“Has he ever had the worst kind of injury?”

“Maybe some day you can ask him.”

Harley sniffed. “What if he dies before I can get him to talk to me? I’d never get to tell him I love him.”

“That won’t happen. Besides the party is tomorrow, he’s probably going to take a break until after.”

“You’re right. I should… go get stuff done before then, I guess.”

“Like shave the only chin hair you have?”

“Hey not everyone can grow Captain America’s beard! Not even you old man!”

Tony snorted and shooed him out of the lab before he said, “you can come out now, Pete.” 

Tony was already working on the suit when he stepped into a soft pair of loose sweatpants and limped back into the lab. “You okay?” he asked.

“Harley said he loves me,” Peter whispered.

Tony was silent.

“Why did he say that?”

“Well I can’t imagine that it’s for any other reason than that.”

“But he was so  _ mad _ at me—”

“Well, I get that. Nobody  _ likes _ being excluded from secrets that big by people they love. I understand that it’s necessary, Peter, but that doesn’t change how difficult it is to accept that kind of secret.”

Peter’s shoulders slumped. “Do you think he’ll forgive me? He was so scared just now…”

“Kid, he’s already forgiven you and moved right on into the Petey gives gray hairs society with the rest of us.”

Peter scowled. Then, he had an idea. “I should build something to make him feel better. What if he had his own private line to my suit?! He could talk to me any time and I could tell him it’s okay. I already made one for Ned for when he’s doing guy-in-the-chair things, so it shouldn’t be that hard.  _ I can give it to Harls for Christmas! _ ”

“Didn’t you already get Harley a present?”

“He needs another present.”

Tony laughed.”Does he?”

“Of course Mr. Stark! I’m gonna get started on it right now!” Peter looked like he was going to start vibrating as he skipped over to his work bench.

“Heyheyhey! Not so fast!”

“What? What?!”

“You know the lab rules. No shoes, no shirt, no service! Go finish getting dressed.”

Clearly having forgotten that he was only wearing sweatpants, he scrambled to the door. “Yes, sir, Mr. Stark!”

**~** **  
** **Tony** **  
** **~**

The boys had scampered off, their mutual pining amusing to him. Sometimes, they were so…  _ the same. _

Tony screwed the last tiny piece in place, carefully polished once again, and then pressed the gift into its custom box, breathing a sigh of relief.

_ It’s finished. I did it! _

That relief quickly melted into panic.  _ Fuck, what if he hates it? What if he hates me? Oh my god I’m like Dweeb One and Dweeb Two out there. _

_ Cut it out. This was a good idea. Those two nerds collectively have one brain cell from time to time.  _ He studied it again, tracing his fingers along the perfectly smooth gold. The last touch was a laser inscription for the back, and the machine was arriving to his lab within the hour. He’d chosen a cheesy line to inscribe the back with:  _ yours till the clock runs out. -ts _ _   
_ He thought it was a good idea at the time. Now he just thinks Stephen is going to think he’s a moron. 

_ Ugh, you’ve never been this insecure in your entire life. Get it toget— _

“Mr. Stark?” Peter was back, wearing a long sleeved shirt that featured a Christmas tree made of elements and was appropriately dubbed chemis-tree. The back of the damn thing said HO HO HO but each one was actually the element Holmium.

He snorted. “Nice shirt?”

“Shuri sent it to me for Christmas!” Peter said excitedly. “I’m gonna work on my idea now but—I mean, is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Actually finished up for the moment. I’ll need your help setting up something in here soon.”

“You’ve got it! Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I just— are you sure the pocket watch was a good idea?”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter groaned, “if  _ you  _ can’t get a date this Christmas, what hope is there for the rest of us?! Look, Dr. Strange likes you. I know he does because he gets really red when you say punny things that make him mad, and his heart rate  _ skyrockets, _ Mr. Stark. And when you bicker with him, he laughs sometimes. And he stares at you a lot. Like, a  _ lot _ .”

“W-what? He does?!” Tony panicked. “When have you seen him doing that?”

“Enough times for Ned to have seen it and compare it to when we used to try to guess Liz Allen’s outfits during lunch.”

“ _ Ned sees it too?! _ And also, I wish I’d been around to keep you from doing that!”

“Did you know that his favorite chair in the sanctum, the one by the round window, it has a direct view of Avengers Tower?”

Tony swallowed. “Really?” he whispered. “Wait, how do  _ you  _ know that?! He never lets anybody go to his  _ sanctum  _ or whatever.”

“I asked nicely,” Peter said primly, turning to his work bench. “And I think you should ask nicely too, if only to see his bedroom.”

“PETER BENJAMIN PARKER!”

“What? It’s not like everyone doesn’t know you stopped going out with people when you met him. It’s been a long time for you, hasn’t it?” he asked sympathetically. “A couple years, maybe?”

“If anything I’d rather him see my bedroom,” Tony muttered.

“Ha!”

“I can’t believe I’m talking about this with you.”

“I’m not a  _ child, _ Mr. Stark. I know how sex works.”

“lalalALALALALAICANTHEARYOUPUREYOUNGPETETPARKERCHILD” Tony screeched, plugging his ears dramatically. “I am going to, for the sake of my own sanity and mental health, pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“What?” Peter asked innocently. “Didn’t have that week in biology class, Mr. Stark? Your mom make you take a library hour instead?”

“Oh, you little—” Tony grabbed the towel off his workbench that he always used to wipe engine grease off his hands, and then proceeded to chase Peter around the lab, snapping the towel at his legs or anywhere else he could reach. 

Peter cackled until he wheezed as he ran, vaulted over things, even hopped up to the ceiling, gasping with laughter as Tony finally sat back down, yelling about cheating. 

When they could breathe again, Peter wiped his eyes with his sleeve and said, “I’m happy for you. I wouldn’t have made you choose a gift that would be lame or ruin your chances. Stop worrying about it, okay?”

“Alright, kid. Thank you.”

“Anything for you, Mr. Stark. Besides, I really like seeing you this… sappy. It’s cute.”

“I have to say that I agree,” announced Rhodey from the doorway. “Your huge, ridiculous machine you bought for the exclusive purpose of wooing your boyfriend arrived. FRIDAY tried to tell you but she said you muted her.”

“Thanks. FRIDAY, you can unmute. Send up the package, will you?”

Hours later, and after having changed his idea for the dedication like six times, Tony settled on this:

_ You are my sun _ _   
_ _ My moon _ _   
_ _ And all my stars _ _   
_ __ -E.E. Cummings

“Aww… Mr. Stark…”

“Shut up and help me program it in before I change my mind again!”

Peter snorted. “On it.”

The machine took its time, but the gift was finally done.

Peter watched as Tony polished it for the last time, set it in its box, and sighed. “Well it’s done now and I don’t have time to get anything else so I should go before I just throw it out the window.”

Peter hugged him tightly. “It’s gonna be okay, Mr. Stark. You’ll see.”

“Thanks, Kid.”


End file.
